


Baby Blues

by Marrilyn



Series: Two Witches and a Baby [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Caring, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/F, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Motherhood, Parenthood, Pregnancy, Relationship Discussions, Worry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-06
Updated: 2018-09-06
Packaged: 2019-07-07 18:36:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15913950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Marrilyn/pseuds/Marrilyn
Summary: Reader, pregnant with Rowena's child, worries about her and Rowena's past affecting their treatment of their daughter.





	Baby Blues

The baby wasn't even born, and Rowena was was already pampering her. The witch spent every waking moment around your swollen stomach, caressing it, talking and singing to it, as if the child could understand her. Maybe she could. Babies could hear its parents' voice, or so you'd heard. You hoped it was true. Nothing would make you happier than your daughter, your precious little bundle of joy, knowing that she was loved before coming into this world. She deserved nothing less; her mothers loved her very, very much, and they wanted nothing but for her to know it, to feel it every single day from the very beginning and for the rest of her life. A long life it would be, you and Rowena hoped. Long, happy, and full of love. Anything the two of you didn't have, your daughter would have twice as much of. You'd sworn on it the moment you'd decided on having her.

Looking at Rowena's smiling face, though, you couldn't shake off the fear building up in the back of your mind, creeping closer to the surface with every passing day. It was irrational; you knew that much. You had full trust in Rowena, in her redemption. She'd turned over a new leaf, and it showed. It showed in her demeanor, in the way she interacted with people, hell, even in her moments of anger. Where used to be explosive, vengeful rage, now was just scorn. She would hate and despise and cast simple, petty spells, but she wouldn't kill. Unless one of you was threatened, she wouldn't take a life.

Still, the feeling lingered inside you like a fresh, raw wound. What if she ran away? What if she realized having a family was too much for her and she left, just like she had all those centuries ago? What if she wasn't up to taking care of a child? What if…

What if she hurt her?

You shook your head, trying to chase the terrifying, intrusive thoughts away, but they stubbornly remained. Rowena wouldn't do that, you assured yourself. She wasn't that person anymore. She wouldn't leave when you and your baby needed her the most. And she most certainly wouldn't harm her.

Would she?

Your heart jumped as new, even more destructive thoughts filled your head. Its beats fastened, and your breathing followed suit. The two of you had agreed to raise your daughter without violence, but what if your definition of violence differed from hers? Rowena was a product of a different time. Back then, it wasn't strange for parents to take whips, belts, and sticks to unruly children. If a child misbehaved, they got beaten. Face, back, butt, it didn't matter; no part of a child's body was off limits for punishments.

The worst of all, there were still parents who thought this was acceptable.

_ No,  _ you thought. Your child wouldn't be hit. You would rather die than lay a hand on her. Nothing she could ever do warranted corporal punishment. Children were a handful; there was nothing new about that. They broke rules and crossed lines, sometimes for no reason other than to make their parents mad. That was why parents were there to set them straight, to show them the right way. Violence begot violence. And, in a heartbreaking amount of cases, it begot trauma.

You couldn't do that to your child. You loved her too much to ruin her life. You were her mother; it was your responsibility to correct her mistakes and make a good, strong woman out of her. Kids threw tantrums. They screamed and cried when they didn't get their way. They made messes, and asked stupid questions, and touched things they weren't supposed to touch. Big deal. So did Rowena. As annoying as she could get, not once had you wished to hit her for it. And you wouldn't wish to hit your daughter, either.

"Rowena, can we talk?" you asked, hands instinctively clasping over your stomach. 

"Of course, dear!"

Ever since you'd gotten pregnant, there wasn't a day when she wasn't in a good mood. She was trying her best. A pang of guilt squeezed at your heart for doubting her. She was going to be a great mother. She already was. No bad parent would devote every day to her unborn child and its mother from the very day the doctor had informed her the procedure had worked.

But even the best mothers could make life-ruining mistakes.

Noticing your sullen look, Rowena's face grew serious. "Are you alright? Do you need anything?"

"No, I'm fine," you said, guilt intensifying. She was worried. While you were busy doubting her, she was worrying for you.  _ Damn it! _ "I just… I wanna talk about the baby."

"What about her?"

"You…"  _ You abused and eventually left your son. When you'd met him again, centuries later, you manipulated him and had attempted to kill him more than once. I know you're not that person anymore, but I'm scared. _ You couldn't say that out loud. A lump formed in your throat and you swallowed it, nervous. "You're not gonna leave, are you?"

"Of course not!" Rowena said in a tone that told you even the mere thought of it was outrageous. "Why would you ask me that?"

You remained quiet for a few moments, taking in deep breaths to calm your twitchy nerves. Then you looked up, teary eyes meeting her confused ones, and, in a voice just barely above a whisper, said, "I'm scared."

Rowena's expression softened, confusion morphing into compassion. "I know, darling. I'm scared, too." She chuckled. "Terrified, actually. But we'll make it. Our wee girl will be the happiest child in the world."

"She will," you agreed, a few tears slipping from your eyes.

"Aye. She will have a safe home and more love than she'll know what to do with." Guilt and regret painted her face. "I know I abandoned Fergus. I will never forgive myself for that. But I won't make the same mistake again. I promise you, Y/N, I will stay with you and this child for as long as the two of you want me around."

"We could never not want you." Even the thought of wanting her out of your life sent chills down your spine. No matter what she did, you would always love her. She would always have a place in your heart. You weren't just lovers anymore — you were mothers. That kind of bond was unbreakable. "I just wanted to make sure…"

"I know," Rowena said, and she meant it. She understood your concerns. "Sometimes I doubt myself, as well. There's still so many things I've got to learn."

She and you both. In the past few months you'd read dozens of parenting books, absorbing the information they provided like a sponge. Children needed love and care and devotion, but also clear boundaries and rules. There was still a huge stack of similar books you planned to read on your nightstand, each, no doubt, telling you the exact same things. They made it sound so easy, but, going by experience, theory was much, much different than practice. Some things you'd only learn once you came face to face with them.

And you  _ would _ learn. You  _ had _ to. You owed it to yourself and your child to be the best mother she could ever want.

"Me, too," you said. "I won't… I won't be like  _ him." _ Instinctively, your hands pressed a tad firmer into your stomach. Bitter tears fell from your eyes in a burning, swollen path down your cheeks. You wouldn't be like your father. You would learn, and you would do it right. You would do right by your daughter.

"Oh, darling," Rowena said, the sympathy of her face spilling into her tone. She reached for one of your hands and squeezed it. The touch was comforting, reassuring; it chased away some of the bad thoughts — bad memories — that had settled down in your mind, the cold replaced by soft, loving warmth. "You are nothing like that man. Don't even think about it."

"How can I not?" You swallowed so hard your throat ached for a long moment. "What if it's genetic? What if—"

"No," Rowena cut you off. She raised a forefinger and pointed it at you as if she were about to accuse you of a crime. "Don't you dare think that. I forbid you." Her tone was firm, stern, like that of a mother chastising an unruly teenager. "Your father made his choices. He is a vile man, and that is on him. You're different, Y/N."

"You can't know that."

"I do. You will not hit our child, Y/N. You love her. The fact that you're worried shows how much better you are than him." Her features softened. "He never took responsibility for what he's done, whilst you are doing your bloody best to make sure nothing happens. And nothing  _ will  _ happen."

_ Nothing will happen. _

Rowena was right. She wouldn't hurt your child, and neither would you. She'd learned from her mistakes. You'd learned from your father's. You would be loving mothers. Your daughter would be happy. She would never feel unsafe around you, never hide out of fear of pain. She would have a happy childhood, and grow up into a happy, stable, independent woman. Not once in her long, long life would she feel like she couldn't turn to her mothers. No matter the problem, the two of you would always have her back.

Still…

"If anything  _ does _ happen—"

"Nothing will happen," Rowena interrupted stubbornly.

"If it does," you insisted, blinking away fresh tears, "if-if I hurt her, promise me you'll take her away."

"Darling—"

"Promise me, Rowena!" Then, in a lower, softer voice, you said, "Please."

She sighed. "Fine. I promise." You let out a breath of relief, as if a heavy weight had been lifted off your shoulders with those simple words. "But there will be no need for that."

"I need to be sure," you told her.

"Aye." She smiled, and then it faded. Her expression shifted, taking on a sad, suddenly solemn look. "You, too. If… if I do it again, take her. She deserves better."

You nodded. The two of you would protect your daughter, even from each other. You owed her that much. "I hope we don't fuck it up."

"We won't," Rowena said. "Mistakes happen, every parent makes them, but we won't do anything irreparable. She will know she's loved every single day. Her mothers will be there for her —  _ both _ of them. She will not be missing anything. This is my second chance, Y/N. I will not waste it." She took a small breath and added, "I will not hurt another child."

"I know. I'm sorry for doubting you."

"You were right to be scared. Hell, I'm terrified, myself."

"Guess we have that in common."

"I guess so." She smiled. "You won't hurt her, either. Go easy on yourself, love. I'm not saying it will be easy — a child is a big responsibility — but once you get the hang of it, it's not that hard. You will be bloody perfect!"

You let out a laugh. Rowena followed suit. Expect her to lighten the mood. She was  _ bloody _ good at it lately.

"I suppose you're right," you said. "Our  _ bairn _ will be a very happy  _ lass." _

"I feel like you're making fun of me," she said.

You gasped dramatically. "I would never!"

"Being a wee bit xenophobic while you're at it."

"Pfft! Slander!"

The two of you started at each other for a long moment. Then you burst into joint laughter, happy, cheerful, fearful concerns forgotten, at least for a moment, in place of joy. You opened your arms wide, and Rowena dove in for a hug. Her lips brushed against yours in a kiss, as sweet as strawberries and as soft as the finest silk.

"Thank you," you whispered as you parted.

She settled against you, one arm around your shoulders while the other rubbed soft circles over your stomach. "Always, dear. I love you."

"I love you, too."

Suddenly, the baby kicked. You and Rowena exchanged a look, lips wide in smiles that could light up the whole world. Your daughter, your child, your  _ bairn, _ loved you, too. And she knew that you loved her just as much.

**Author's Note:**

> Edited by OswinTheStrange.


End file.
